


Foggy Days

by Amuscaria



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brain Fog, F/M, Past Abuse, Past Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Why do I keep making Sansa high
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25450078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuscaria/pseuds/Amuscaria
Summary: Sansa wakes up in a hospital to a familiar voice.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 26
Kudos: 68





	Foggy Days

**Author's Note:**

> I promised that when I'm in a hospital again, I'd start posting this silly story. The plot was meant to be quite different, but my brain hasn’t been all that functional lately, so I’ve decided to graciously share that with Sansa. Since I'm in a hospital, she gets to be in a hospital. And if I have to be drugged, she does, too. Except that she has Dr. Hound, so I guess she wins.  
> I'm still not a native English speaker and I'm also not a medical professional. I’m just very practised at being a patient and I like to entertain myself with ideas that would make hospital time more enjoyable. More precisely how could some non-ser help. This story is entirely from Sansa’s perspective, so let’s blame all the horrible inaccuracies on the unreliable patient. This thing is my therapy and it doesn't make any sense at all, I just like to make fun of health problems. Consider yourself warned.

Sansa didn’t remember much of the last time she’d been hospitalized, she’d had a concussion then and her memories of that time were quite foggy. Actually, everything was foggy right now, too. Her brain had probably been cooked. Or baked. She preferred baking, really. She was hurting so much, she couldn’t open her eyes, or she’d be sick again. Or perhaps her body would sooner melt from the sheer pain. What had happened? Where was she, anyway? Was this all just an awful dream? There couldn’t possibly be so much pain in real life. But in all that misery, there was the odd, raspy voice she recognized. 

It was such a scary voice, inhumanly deep and hoarse. She’d been so terrified of it back in King’s Landing, she'd felt as if she was being haunted by a true monster. And the hands, she recognized the hands, too. They had always come along with that voice. And those were some enormous hands. The last time they'd touched her, she’d wanted to run away from them, run away from the anger in the voice. She’d wanted to run away from the hospital, her head and broken arm be damned. But that had been such a long time ago. And it was all different now, wasn’t it?

There was the giant hand touching her again, although it was on her leg this time. Didn't he want to check how well the broken arm had healed last year? He hadn't seen Sansa make recovery, he should check on his old work. Aww, she recognized even the calloused skin of his paws. Shouldn't doctors have soft skin? The mysterious man of her dreams was telling her she’d be fine and this time, she believed him more than anyone else. He was scary, but he didn’t scare her anymore. His angry snarls had once chased away Joffrey, kept her safe even in the hospital owned by Joffrey’s family. The doctor had been rude, but he’d kept her safe all the same. And the man was there with her again. It made sense. Wasn’t Eyrie far away from King’s Landing, though? Well, it wasn't important, he was there and that’s all that mattered. Sansa didn’t want to think. Thinking hurt, everything hurt. But the doctor had come to save her, so everything would be fine. Sansa hadn’t been sure if the voice wasn't just a figment of her imagination, it was so deep and otherworldly, but now that voice was the only certainty she felt. 

“It’s you!” she smiled. Sansa finally dared to open her eyes again and tried to focus on the enormous figure above her. Everything was so blurry. She could see dark hair, however, and something odd on his face. Marmalade. The man had weird dark marmalade smeared all over half of his face. And Sansa’s head hurt, why did it always hurt whenever she met the scary giant? She closed her eyes again, fearing she’d vomit all over him.

“No, I’m the Maiden in disguise,” the marmalade man’s response sounded like a growl.

Sansa giggled. She was safe. She wouldn’t be sick again, either, he’d make sure of that. “I’ve dreamt about you,” she confessed.

“Hmm,” another growl. “What’s happened to the good old nightmares about falling elevators?”

Sansa didn’t like elevators. These days she always avoided them. Petyr got so close to her whenever they were in an elevator together. He kept touching her, too. Elevators were filled with the odd Littlefinger scent, a combination of Petyr’s cologne and all the mint in his breath. And now she felt sick again. “I don’t like mint anymore,” Sansa announced. She tried to think. She should think. Why didn’t her brain want to think? “Waaaa,” she barked at her own head to clear it up. Did it work?

“Hush, girl, calm down,” the marmalade man sounded oddly alarmed. “You can’t move.”

“Am I paralyzed?” Sansa asked politely. He was right, she couldn't move her legs, as if someone had tied them to the bed.

“No, but you have lots of injuries, so we need you to stay like this.”

“Everything is blurry.”

“Don’t worry about that, you’ll feel much better soon.”

“You’re the blurriest,” Sansa criticized.

“As you’ve said, the tallest smudge in the world,” the man chuckled. “The confusion is completely normal. You’ll get to sleep soon, so just try to relax now, alright?”

Sansa furrowed her brows. What had she said? She hadn’t said anything, she hadn’t talked to the giant at all, she’d just woken up. “I reject that suggestion, sir,” she mumbled. Even her lips didn’t want to cooperate and articulate properly. What would the doctor think of her? Her entire body had conspired against her. It was quite annoying, really. This is what she got for all the lemon cakes she’d given to her body, a vicious conspiracy. And it was so exhausting to think. She needed sauna, sauna always helped her refresh.

Did they have saunas in hospitals? They should. Sansa had once stayed for two weeks in a Riverland’s hotel without any sauna, it had been horrible. That would never happen in North. Lack of saunas was simply inexcusable. “Saunas for everyone,” Sansa mumbled, determined to support the good cause.

There were steps. The marmalade man had left her, why had he left her? Sansa tried to look around. Everything looked so weird, everything lacked real contours, as if it had been painted. By some very twisted artist. Artists were indeed twisted these days. What was it with all the current painters making the weirdest colour choices? Or that red dot on a toilet she’d seen in a gallery. That was supposed to be art, too! The dot hadn’t even been round. Sansa liked symmetry, if someone felt the compulsion to draw dots on toilets, they should at least make them nice and symmetrical. Respect the toilets.

There were nurses around Sansa, she recognized that much. Her brain might have been cooked, but she recognized a nurse when she met one. And the nurses were incredibly nice to her, she didn’t deserve people to be so nice to her. She didn’t want to bother the nurses, they had work to do and she really should be going anyway. What were they doing to her? Sansa frowned. Was it possible… was it possible she wasn’t wearing any clothes? No, no! That couldn’t be. She hadn’t spoken with the growling man while completely naked, he’d have noticed and done something about it. It was impossible. It was… what?

Sansa opened her eyes, squinting at the painful brightness of the lights. Had she fainted? It felt like she’d fainted. She was in so much pain, she wanted it to go away, kill her if necessary, just so that she wouldn’t feel anything. How could she even breathe, it shouldn’t be possible with so much pain. She’d been thinking very important things before fainting, though. Something about… saunas? Ah, yes, sauna. She’d lost her beloved sauna oil, she needed to make a new one. Did she have all the ingredients? 

“I know, I know, it was an accident,” came an annoyed snarl. Ah, the rude doctor from King’s Landing was real, now she remembered. Yes, he was real. Real and snarling still. Why was Sansa in King’s Landing, though? Well, Joffrey was dead, so… so… huh. What had she been thinking about? “If she falls a few times on a knife, it will be an accident, too, won’t it?” the man sounded quite angry, why was he always so angry? He should go to sauna with her.

“People fall down stairs all the time, doctor,” someone responded. 

“Right. Women usually overdose, dress for the evening, add a few wonderful bruises to their wrists and go jump down stairs for fun, makes sense.”

“He’s the mayor of Eyrie, you know,” the younger voice pointed out anxiously.

“Well, tell the mayor to go fuck himself. Where’s Tarth?”

“She’ll be here in a minute, doctor.”

Sansa had fallen? A nurse took away Sansa’s ring. Ring. Ring. Sansa shouldn’t have had any rings on her fingers! But Petyr… ah, he’d asked her to marry him, she remembered. It made sense, then. Wait. Had she accepted? That was surprising. Sansa was thankful to Petyr for taking her away from King’s Landing and protecting her, but her affection for him didn’t go further than that. She certainly didn’t remember accepting his proposal. Why would she? She’d planned to leave Eyrie… tonight? Or how many nights ago it was? Perhaps it had been years. It felt like it. Sansa had been asleep for years like a sleeping beauty, woken up only by… the growling of a giant doctor. Ha, that would be fun. She’d look out of the window and there’d be flying cars. And there’d be so many new cakes. And everybody would love direwolves. Future would be great.

It must have been so long ago when she’d been in Eyrie, writing Petyr a letter to say goodbye and explaining herself. She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. But she couldn’t stay, either. Petyr’s kisses were unpleasant enough, he’d been so insistent lately with his attentions and she truly didn’t want to wait for more, but then… then she woke up in the hospital. Had she fallen on the giant doctor? That didn’t sound so bad. He kept her safe. Sansa narrowed her eyes at the shadow coming back to her. He had dark hair. Was it allowed for a doctor to have long hair? Was it a wig? It looked like a wig, the hairline was quite odd. And he still had all that marmalade on his face, he was so funny. Or may be he'd just made jam from some berries and he'd been a bit clumsy with it. “Strawberry?”

“What?”

“I like strawberry jam.”

“Are you hungry?” the man asked incredulously. “You won’t be eating today, girl.”

“Don’t talk about food, I’ve been sick,” Sansa scolded him.

“Don’t say,” the doctor snorted. “Is the pain getting better?”

Sansa furrowed her brows. Her brain felt weird, like it was on a trip somewhere far away, not in her own head. But the pain… perhaps it had decreased? Perhaps it was magic. “Thank you,” Sansa smiled. “You’re so sweet.” She wanted to reach out to touch the man’s face, but he stilled her hand. 

“Enough of your chirping, girl,” he rasped in his inhuman, magical voice. “You’ll get to sleep soon, so just try to relax, alright?”

Sansa smiled, but the man left her again. Why did he keep walking around, why didn’t he stay with her? Everyone wanted to stay around her, she made cakes and she had a great singing voice and she was a great company.

“Are you wearing false teeth, Miss Stark?” the nurse asked her.

“What? No!” Sansa was so horrified her body nearly stopped hurting for a moment. Nearly.

“Any teeth problems?”

“No, my teeth are perfect!”

The nurse had some more questions, one more offensive than the other. Sansa liked the nurse much more when she wasn’t making impertinent suggestions. When the nurse was finished with the interrogation, Sansa decided it was her turn now.

“What’s the name?” Sansa asked weakly. 

“This? You're in Quiet Isle Hospital, Miss Stark.”

“I meant the doctor.”

“Doctor Tarth, she's an amazing expert, you have nothing to worry about.”

“She? No, no, the barking one.”

“Ah, Doctor Clegane,” the nurse responded. “Don’t worry, Miss Stark, he just talks like that, but he’s our best orthopaedist.”

“You’re so sweet,” Sansa mumbled. “Thank you.” The nurses were so kind, she’d make lemon cakes for them, as soon as she’d find the strength to stand up and go to the kitchen.

Clegane. That had been one of the many names in the papers she’d got the last time in the hospital. S. Clegane it had said. She’d been right, it was him, it was truly him. What names began with S? Sansa couldn’t think of any, S was really such an uncommon letter. S… S… sickness. S… S… sleep. But there were names, too, weren’t there? His name began with S. Well, he didn’t strike her as a Suzanne. What else was there? Selyse. Hmm. Steffon? 

“Steve,” she smiled, when she made the discovery.

Another growl came, this one particularly menacing. “Was Steve the one you were running away from, girl? He gave you something unusual to drink, didn't he? Did he push you down the stairs, or were you just trying to escape?"

Ah, he was back! Steve couldn’t stay away from her, could he. "Steve," Sansa repeated the name happily.

"Steve won't hurt you again, girl, you're safe now."

He'd travelled all the way from King's Landing just to save her. Like a knight. Her knight. And he liked jam, too. “I’m glad to make acquaintance, Steve.”

The man let out an exasperated sigh. “Chirp, chirp. Just try to rest, little bird, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Have some nice dreams.”

She would. She’d be the most exemplary patient, she’d show him. Sansa tried to think, but it was impossible now. Perhaps she could indeed sleep a little. She opened her eyes once more, trying to focus on Steve, make out his features, but then everything got disgustingly blurry. Pity. She should have told him she made the best jam herself.


End file.
